


Hands On

by Seascribe



Category: due South
Genre: Back rubs, M/M, Porn, shoulder holsters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2013-09-02
Packaged: 2017-12-25 10:53:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/952229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seascribe/pseuds/Seascribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>RayK needs help with his shoulder holster. Porn ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hands On

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the due South virtual bar at large, who all expressed a great deal of enthusiasm for this premise. Catladyinwaiting wrangled the magical disappearing pants and educated me on the finer points of shoulder holster appreciation. Any remaining errors or inadequately appreciated shoulder holsters are all on me.

Ray slumps against his kitchen counter with a wince. "I feel like I've been run over by a bus." 

"Well, in point of fact, Ray, it was--"

"Look, Fraser, just shut up, okay?"

"Understood." Fraser fidgets a little and then settles into parade rest, probably fighting the temptation to start compulsively washing the dishes piled in Ray's sink. Ray straightens up-- _ow ow ow_ \--and tries to shrug out of his shoulder holster. Underneath the table, Dief whimpers in sympathy.

"Would you like some help with that?" Fraser asks, looking concerned. 

"Nope," Ray grits. Fraser shrugs and watches with a politely interested expression for a few minutes while Ray tries to get out of the holster without actually moving his neck, shoulders, or back. It doesn't really work. "Yeah, okay, maybe a little help." 

"Certainly," Fraser says. He contemplates Ray for a second, rubbing his thumb over his eyebrow, before coming over and sliding his fingers under the leather, supple and a little damp with sweat. He strips it off in one smooth movement, quick and gentle. His thumbs trace over the stitches and the place where Ray's badge clips on, like he's admiring the workmanship. He takes it towards Ray's bedroom, and Ray can hear him putting the gun and badge in the safe and hanging the holster up in the closet. 

"I imagine the, ah, the mishap left you with several contusions and abrasions," Fraser says, coming back from the bedroom. "I have a salve that will help with the discomfort and aid healing." He's already got it out and is twisting the lid off. Ray can't smell it from here, so he figures it's probably okay.

"Just don't tell me what it's made out of," Ray warns, holding out his hand for the jar. 

"It's no trouble for me to apply it," Fraser says quickly. "Your range of mobility appears somewhat hindered by your injuries." Dief sneezes. It sounds like a laugh, and Ray glares at him. He definitely does not need more mockery from the canine peanut gallery. 

This is a little more, uh, hands-on than Ray's used to his partnerships getting, but maybe that's how they do things in Canada. There's probably not a lot of room for machismo out on the tundra after you've been mauled by a rampaging moose. Anyway, Fraser's got a point about his mobility.

"Okay then. Thanks, buddy," Ray says and sits down gingerly on the couch, turned sideways to present his back with all its bruises and scrapes to Fraser. 

"Shortly after my graduation from Depot, I was stationed on the Snag river," Fraser says, scooping out a dollop of salve from the jar. "I had a colleague there who suffered an unfortunate encounter with--" Ray's not listening because Fraser's starting smoothing his salve-coated fingers over the gigantic bruise on Ray's ribs, hesitant at first, but then with more confidence. Fraser keeps talking, his hands moving so gently over Ray's skin that he barely feels a twinge. 

It actually starts to feel kind of good after a while, sort of like the burn after a workout in the gym. Ray realises that he's making these soft little happy noises in the back of his throat, noises that are not exactly appropriate in this particular situation. But Fraser's still touching him, his hands stroking up and down Ray's back, his thumbs doing something incredible to the tight muscles between his spine and shoulders. There's no way that he isn't hearing the noises Ray's making, and judging by the way Fraser's breathing a little faster than normal, Ray's pretty sure he's not the only one having less-than-appropriate reactions to this situation. 

Even by Canadian standards, this passed out of "being a good and helpful partner" territory a long time ago. Not that Ray minds. He's pretty much been waiting for the Canadian standards to catch up with the good old US of A ones for a while now. 

"You takin' advantage of my compromised position here, Fraser?" Ray asks. Fraser jumps, snatching his hands back from Ray like he's been burned.

"I had no intention of--that is, I would never--" Fraser stammers, and Ray almost feels sorry for him. Almost. 

"Uh huh," Ray says with a smirk. "Except for how that's totally what you were doing." 

Fraser makes a miserable noise and stands up. "I'm terribly sorry, Ray. I'll just be going then. Diefenbaker, come." 

"Hey, no, did you hear me complaining?" Ray says. "Benton Fraser, I am not going to chase you down. Get back over here." 

Fraser stops by the door, giving Ray a doubtful look. Dief sighs and flops back down under the table.

"It's okay, Fraser," Ray says. "I mean it." 

Fraser comes and sits back down beside Ray on the couch, gingerly, like he's afraid Ray might change his mind. 

"Should I continue what I was doing?" he asks.

"I got a better idea," Ray says, and kisses him. Fraser makes a surprised noise, but he's definitely kissing back. At least until his brain apparently kicks back in. 

"Ray, I don't want to exacerbate your injuries," he says, pulling away. He looks pretty regretful about it.

"You won't," Ray says. "I'm fine. C'mon, Fraser, I trust you. You're not gonna hurt me." Fraser gives him a wide-eyed look, and Ray shakes his head. "It's just a couple of bruises, Frase." 

"Yes, of course," Fraser says, and--hallelujah--starts kissing Ray again. Ray tries to get closer, so he can put his hands on Fraser, but moving too much hurts and the couch is too narrow. He slumps against Fraser's shoulder with a groan.

"I hope you won't think I'm being too forward," Fraser says, petting Ray's hair a little. "But perhaps this might be more comfortable if we relocated to the bedroom." 

"I think I could stand for you to be a little more forward, if those are the kinds of ideas you're gonna have," Ray says, grinning. Fraser lets out a snort of laughter and stands up to help haul him off the couch. Ray limps his way to the bedroom, where Fraser helpfully strips him out of his clothes before shucking off the uniform and folding it neatly over Ray's dresser.

As usual, Fraser is right and things are a lot easier in here. Ray's bed is nice and soft and big enough for them both, without having to worry about contorting into awkward positions or accidentally getting an elbow to his bruised ribs. Fraser arranges them so that he can keep kissing Ray, and Ray can get his hands on all that soft, pale skin without aggravating his back. 

Fraser's hands are doing some exploring of their own, tracing Ray's collarbone and sliding down to tease a little at his nipples before bumping gently down his ribs, just enough to remind Ray of the bruises there, but not quite enough to actually hurt. He whimpers into Fraser's mouth, and Fraser hums happily back. 

Fraser's got his thigh pushed between Ray's, and after a little while he starts moving, just enough to give Ray a little friction, his own cock bumping up against Ray's hip. 

"Yeah," Ray breathes. "That's good, Fraser. That's real good." 

Fraser smiles and keeps on with his nice, slow exploration, trailing his fingers over Ray's hip, flirting with the sensitive spot at the base of his spine, until it feels like Ray's melting, coming completely undone under Fraser's touch. Ray's never been good at patient, but somehow he's pretty sure he could spend entire days like this. Fraser's freaky Canadian patience must be catching. 

But apparently even that has a limit, because now Fraser's speeding up a little, and his dick is leaking against Ray's hip, and he's saying Ray's name, over and over again, his face buried in Ray's neck to muffle it a little. He slides his hand down between them, wrapping his fingers around Ray's dick. At that, the low heat smouldering in Ray's belly leaps up into full-on flames, and he starts rocking hard into Fraser's fist. 

It hurts a little, makes his bruises and cuts and tight muscles protest, but Ray's not paying much attention, because he's _so close_ , and Fraser is already there, making these muffled,"Oh oh oh," noises into Ray's neck as he comes hot and slick all over Ray's hip. He loses his rhythm a little, but it doesn't matter, because Ray's already gone, groaning Fraser's name and shuddering into his hand. 

After a little while, when things are starting to get kind of gross and sticky, Fraser climbs out of bed and comes back with a warm washcloth. 

"How are you feeling?" he asks Ray. 

"Fucking fantastic," Ray mumbles sleepily. "That's a way better cure than your caribou gut salve." 

"Actually, Ray, it's--"

"Shut up, I said I didn't want to know," Ray says. "Come back to bed." 

"As you wish," Fraser says, and Ray catches a glimpse of him smiling that huge, dorky grin before he wriggles back under the covers beside Ray, and they both fall asleep.


End file.
